


Between Wind and Wave

by Lunaelamen



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Eventual Romance, Female Apprentice (The Arcana), Multi, Named Apprentice (The Arcana), Origin Story, Red Plague (The Arcana)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:35:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24620959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunaelamen/pseuds/Lunaelamen
Summary: “Why,” he asked astonished. He did not want to upset her or make her think he doubted it, but he wanted to understand. “Why go through something like this with me?” Him of all people, when he believed she could have chosen someone better.She hesitated before deciding to admit the truth. “I thought you’d say something silly or harmless and the moon incantation would grant it... but you asked for me.” She said her voice wavering. She swallowed around the emotion thickening around her admittance, it tasted foreign and unpleasant. “I tried to specify, tried to give you a chance to change your mind. I dared you to ask for this, and you did so beautifully. Perfectly chosen words ringing in my ears, I was consumed by you. How could I have said no?”Something in the fact that it had never been a consideration until the heat of their passion-- until he had chosen to ask for her that she had decided it should be him. Almost like it was a scene specially crafted by a tragedian. He resigned himself to commit to the role he found himself cast in. Whatever adventure awaited him, he couldn't have asked for a more alluring co-star. With any luck, they could make something real.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2
Collections: Im_Muriel_Trash, The Arcana Stories





	Between Wind and Wave

**Author's Note:**

> ((Lucio Morgasson/ Count Lucio and the world of the Arcana is property of Nyx Hydra. The Gaulish Iles and Irannon are belong to me. The fairy lore, belong to the fae and no other))

The Deal

The sailors warned that the ruddy green islands off the coast of the Great Gate were haunted. The Gaulish Isles housed no known kingdom or statehood, only the childish superstitions of the crew. It was taboo to speak the names of the creatures said to stalk their shores as the ship weighted anchor as close as the vessel dared go. "They'll snatch ya!" The sailors cautioned, feigning grabs at Lucio's face, "An' the devils ne'er let ya go, once they caught ya!" 

Lucio sneered, bolstered by a brutal childhood among a war-tribe, years of war conquering as a mercenary, and a hard-fought succession to the Lordship of Vesuvia, "It'll take more than a wild imagination to catch me off guard." As he prepared the long boat for the annoyingly long row to shore, the crew bade him some lasting advice about dealing with "anything unusual" he might find ashore. He dismissed the warnings as an unfortunate side effect of the scurvy and a life spent in a narrow floating hell. Having stepped ashore, he could see now that he had been foolish. 

The soft ground did not betray his heavy foot falls as he sprinted through the underbrush and yet every attempt to evade the horror tracking him was futile. The edges of it’s form shifting like a rolling fog, intangibly silhouetting the nightmarish form of a creature similar to that of a horse, but the unearthly screeching that tore through it’s maw was far from horse-like. A panic fueled rage pulsing in his blood as he ran to evade the creature, trying desperately to find his bearings in the ancient foreign woodlands. Was he running in circles!?

Nothing had beat him yet, and he’d be damned to be bested by the slithering nightmare chasing him through the woods, he thought cursing as the soles of his boots slipped on the uneven ground. He tried to yell into the frigid air, ears straining to hear any response from the crewman left waiting at the junction between sand and surf, but the forest swallowed his voice echoing it back to him distorted and muffled. Desperation replacing his anger, he screamed again demanding if anyone could hear him. His shrill voice was met only with a giggle, crisp and serene and eerily contrasting against the shrieks of the creature hunting him through the dense brush. Echoing off the thick bark of the grove was the voice of a maiden.

In a fleeting moment of luck, he was able to evade the creature, ducking behind the gnarled, exposed roots of an ancient tree. He trembled from the cold and from his body’s desperation for a breath he refused to take, afraid the cloud of vapor would reveal his hiding spot as he watched the creature gallop silently across the air past his temporary reprieve. He clutched his ears and coward as the creature roared in it’s frustration, the preternatural wailing ringing in his head. 

The giggle returned when he released his head, much closer than before. He whirled from his hiding, clutching his sword to face whatever new threat had found him alone in the woods, only to see a young woman. She grinned, wide and amused from her vantage point cradled in the mossy branches of the ancient oak. She laughed unabashedly behind her hand at an unspoken joke at his expense. 

His face contorted in rage, “You think this is funny?!” He shrieked, and somewhere deep in the woods that Nightmare answered now alerted to his location. His face turned deathly pale as he whipped his head in the direction the sound came from. Turning back to the girl still laughing at his impulsivity, he fell to his knees and begged her to help him. 

“Yes, it is funny.” She answered him watching relief then despair and lastly rage flash across his face in rapid succession as he listened to her few words before she cackled again in delight. Her bare legs kicking in her glee, the cold didn’t seem to affect her in the slightest. “Whatever you’ve done to earn the Púca’s ill-favor, won’t be remedied by screaming at me.” She said smartly, a wide unabashed smirk lifting her lips. 

“Please,” He insisted through gritted teeth, his face contorting in poorly contained anger as the screams from the Púca creature came closer, “I don’t deserve this-- no one deserves this!” His anger only grew when he was once again met with laughter.

“You expect someone to save you as you spit at them through your teeth?” She teased, “That’s no way to speak to a lady, especially one you’ve only just met.” Her Cheshire grin only grew when the shriek of the Púca came closer.

“I’ll give you anything!” He begged, the fear replacing his rage. His head on a constant pivot as he watched the treeline around him knowing the creature would return at any moment. “I was a brute--” He tried a different approach, remembering the warning from the sailors before he went stomping through the forest on this cursed island. There were creatures in the forest that didn’t abide by the conventions of man. If he were to survive, he’d have to adapt to their rules. “Where are my manners?” He apologized, hysteria pitching his voice higher. 

Her amusement never faltered, but she looked interested in what he was saying, now. 

“I am the lord of a prosperous realm across the Salty Sea,” the shrill of his voice only grew as he attempted to keep the pretense going. His wide, pale eyes never leaving hers. “I will happily reward you with anything your heart desires, if you are mercifully, gracious enough to help me! My lady…?” He gracelessly stumbled across his words, a clumsy attempt to flatter her. He didn’t ask for her name, but left the ending open for her to supply it.

She looked bored, her chin resting heavily on her hand, “Irannon” She drawled, not bothering to hide her annoyance as she stared down her nose at him. The mischievous grin remained, goading him in his eminent peril. How often does one have a lord on his knees? After all, for an attempt to beg for his life he was doing a pitiful job. 

It was only then he realized how deathly quite the woods had grown. Not the scurry of insects nor the flight of birds could be heard among their conversation. The silence was suffocating. He imagined the creature lurking beyond the brush waiting to drag him into whatever hell the crew had promised. He guessed he had seconds before the nightmare returned. “How about a wager?” He pleaded his last resort. “A game for my lady’s amusement!”

Her grin widened cruelly, “Now there’s an idea.” 

“If you’ll help me to evade the Púca, I’ll do anything you ask.” Encouraged by her reaction, he would easily give anything to be free of the nightmare. “I will venture to the deepest forests, climb the highest mountains and swim the deepest oceans to retrieve anything you could ever want. My land, my riches, my title, m-” He swallowed thickly, “My life.” 

“And what would I want with your life, my lord?” She laughed again.

“It is yours to do with as you see fit,” He shuffled on his knees closer to the trunk of the tree, trying to gain whatever distance he could from the treeline. “I beg you, Lady Irannon, if your presence can keep the Púca from me, I will do anything-- give you anything-- for you to help me. How many people would pass up having the Count of Vesuvia in their corner, huh?” The air of formality dissipated by the second, his words becoming less of a plea and more of a challenge.

Irannon had no need for anything he offered her. “I can think of one,” she said dryly, watching his face fall as he glared through his pointed eyebrows, “but your scrambling put me in a good mood, so here's the deal. If you can survive the night on your own, I will keep the Púca from you long enough for you to sail away on your ship.” She offered.

“That’s not good enough.” He bit back, forgetting his manners once again, “What’s to stop it from chasing me to Vesuvia?” He challenged getting to his feet once more. She stared down at him, her smile wiped from her face. “When I survive the night,” He began, “You’ll keep that thing far away from me, from Vesuvia” He demanded. Something about the young woman prevented the creature from coming forward to claim him. He would bet his life on it (he was betting his life on it). His mind already working to manipulate this information to his advantage. If he could persuade her to return with him, she could keep the Púca from claiming him, for seemingly ever.

“So confident,” She scoffed, “For a man who was, just moments ago, begging for his life!” She grinned again, watching him jump at the tell tale hiss of the Púca slither through the trees. Could he have been wrong about his hunch? No, he was certain that the creature would have lunged at him by now if it were able. “If you can survive the night, I’ll remain by your side however long is necessary to keep the Púca from you, my lord…?” She mimicked his earlier tone, waiting for him to tell her his name. 

“Lucio. Lucio Morgasson.” He spat between his bared teeth. “I’ll hold you to your word.” It sounded more like a threat than an agreement. He readied his blood soaked sword and dove back into the treeline to flank the beast. The voice of the maiden an unholy echo among the leaves.

“Lucio,” Irannon smirked, “best get started, the night is still young.”

...

**Author's Note:**

> First ever fanfiction publicized, so if you can't say something nice, say something cruel!


End file.
